


Blink Away the Barriers

by Lorakeet



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, It just borrows a thing from Doctor Who, M/M, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorakeet/pseuds/Lorakeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John could have sworn he just saw that statue move...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blink Away the Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a thing I wrote on the back of my Theology notes mid-sophomore year. Johnlock, if you squint, and maybe tilt your head a bit to the left. Unbeta'd. There WILL be mistakes, despite my efforts. I apologise for any inconsistencies in britpicking as well—sometimes I'm American, sometimes I'm not, and, due to state of unbeta'd-ness, there's no real way of policing that. But yes. Please enjoy and comment and things!

Sherlock stood, watching. He was staring at Doctor Watson again, quite unintentionally. He didn’t mean to act so childishly, like a shallowly obsessive teenage girl. At this point, though, Sherlock found he didn’t care enough to change his habits, even though they were inhibiting the quality of his deductions. Still, he remained where he was, the perfect statue. He didn’t understand his own strange infatuation with the doctor, but that was nothing new—lately, it was becoming harder and harder to grasp anything emotional that was happening inside his head.

It was another second before the angel, our dear Sherlock, realised that Watson wasn’t looking at him anymore. Sherlock was definitely distracted; he could feel that in the dark depths of his mind. He darted to the opposite corner of the room on an impulse, maybe to establish some kind of social contact—it was the first time he’d wanted to initiate anything of the sort in a long time, maybe his entire life.

Just as he saw the army doctor turning to face him, Sherlock’s hands went to his face by way of pure instinct.

———

John Watson spun on his heel, only to see that the sharp-featured statue had moved again. It was something like the second or third time this had happened. John’s gaze would leave it, and the stone figure would jump to a different corner of the room or something to that extent. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing—it had to be his imagination—and so he allowed his eyes to slide over every plane of its face, curl in its hair, and every fold and contour that comprised its beautiful body. It was truly a work of art. John watched the angel, completely transfixed. He couldn't even blink, his eyes never leaving the sculpted majesty of the white-marble statue—or whatever it was. Cupid’s bow lips were pursed ever-so-slightly, just past the stone hands that looked so strong and steady, yet delicate and dexterous even in the eternally-frozen posture that covered their master’s eyes. The light-haired man shook himself from his captivation. He still had to check, verify that he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

John’s eyes slid shut for a second, it would have been less time, had he been as fearless as he wished.

When he began looking the statue over, he knew it had moved again. It had to know he was watching it. It just had to. He didn't’t see anything straightaway, but soon found the single inconsistency.

A small, almost teasing smile was now curled over once-expressionless lips.  
———

The silence, once a comfort to the dark creature, was now almost too much. Sherlock had never wanted to speak so much in his existence. Doctor Watson was using his trained eye to dissect the angel piece by piece. It was heartening, at the very least; the doctor was making an attempt to understand Sherlock.

Watson looked away and back again quickly. Sherlock was fast enough that he could move in that short span of time. His hands moved to his sides, hanging, though not idle, and his expression changed to resemble questioning. Lacking vocal cords truly did make communication tedious. But maybe the doctor would heed his meaning...

Another moment of silence passed at a glacier’s pace, then Doctor Watson spoke again, his voice ringing out clearly in the enclosed space. “Are you...trying to tell me something?”

Sherlock knew he’d be a clever one. Even without explanation, he had caught onto the fact that Sherlock couldn’t move if he was watching. It was a small comfort—not _everyone_ was as dull as an over-used pencil.

Doctor Watson glanced away again, and Sherlock smiled, rendered immobile when the doctor returned his inquisitive gaze.

The very corners of Watson’s mouth turned up in response. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. A bit. Shall I just ask you yes-or-no questions for now?”

He looked away again, and Sherlock frowned in such a way that conveyed his dislike of the method. Or so he hoped.

———

John frowned when he saw the discrepant expression. “No?” he blinked a few times, thinking.

And the stone angel moved.

Right away, John knew it was too choppy for it to be exactly “right before his eyes,” but he had learned something about this beautiful, intriguing creature—it was fast. _Really_ fast. He voiced this, and the statue gave him a look of dramatic exasperation, like it was the most obvious thing John could have mentioned at that moment.

John chuckled. “Oh, sod off. Anyway, I want to try something. I’m gonna blink a lot quickly, and each time my eyes shut, you move a little. It’ll be like a slideshow, or flipping pages really fast to animate an image. Ready?” He blinked relatively slowly.

Was it just his imagination, or did the angel’s upturned lips look just the slightest bit...impressed?

———

Sherlock couldn’t help being at least a little fascinated with the doctor’s cleverness. Not many people could come up with an idea like that in such a short amount of time. Well, besides himself, obviously.

“Okay, good,” Watson continued quickly. “I’m John, by the way. John Watson, M.D.”

After another flutter of lashes, Sherlock smiled. _I know._ But John couldn’t hear him.

“And what you’re gonna do now, it tell me your name, whatever you’re called. Mouth it.”

John began blinking, and the angel screamed soundlessly, _“Sherlock.”_

———

As the stone creature mouthed its name, John blinked more and more. He was right—the system was working exceptionally for something he had come up with on the spot. “His brain processed “SH-E,” followed by an “L,” then “O” and “K” or “CK.”

“S-H-E-L-O-K?” He spelled out tentatively, making it a question.

The angel stared him down like his IQ had just dropped into single-digits. John frowned disapprovingly. “Fine. Did I miss a consonant somewhere?”

He got a look that screamed “obviously,”

The doctor was getting a little peeved at the condescending air. “Well, which one, then?”

He blinked once, waiting. “You gonna show me—” but then he remembered what would work better. “Oh! I’m gonna do the blinky-thing now, okay? Write it out this time.”

John did as he said he would, and the beautiful statue crisply traced a quick sequence of letters in the air, eight capitals in a neat row.

John processed what he had just seen, and let the syllables roll over his tongue as he spoke them aloud for the first time. “Ehm...Sherlock?”

The stone angel, _Sherlock,_ smiled.

— _end—_


End file.
